EFML:Down memory lane

I was heading home this afternoon.On my way was a school and it being a Saturday afternoon,students filed out with all the enthusiasm and chaos that's typical of them.Somehow,this scene was very reminiscent of my own school life and at that moment,I knew this was something I had to write about:)

This one's about how Saturday afternoons were for a younger version of me(about 4 years or so would be right).

So here's how things were:Monday through Friday school used to end at 3.30p.m and my Mom would pick me up.I stayed about 11 km from school(which I used to consider far but no longer do).No problems there.Saturday was a whole other story.Like every other school,mine too had a half-day system.Class would end at 12 and everyone would run home to enjoy the weekend.Well,everyone but me.

My mom had a bustling practice which would invariably end late--usually 2,sometimes 1.But never 12.Which meant that I had to wait anywhere from 2 to 3 hours for her to come and pick me up.(This seems ridiculous right now,but my parents didn't think any other mode of transport was safe for me given my age).

I used to dread Saturdays.I'd sit down on the gallery at a place that was as inconspicuous as possible.At first,there would be a lot of people.Some would be waiting for their parents.Others for the school vans.Soon,the crowd would start getting thinner.By 1pm,everyone would be gone.The ever-bustling campus would become eerie in its silence.My eyes would fill up and I'd grit my teeth telling myself that it would be okay.

My eyes would dart towards the gate every few minutes.My ears ever alert to the horn of her Kinetic Honda.(Yes,it's distinguishable.Don't ask me how:P)




The worst part was,I didn't even have a watch and nor was there a clock around.I had no idea of what time it was.Each minute was so agonizing it felt like an hour.It would always seems to me that it was close to dusk--whereas when my Mom actually came,I'd ask her the time and it would always be within 3.Relativity,you know.

Every week,without fail, my brain would go through the same questions.What if my Mom forgets me?Lame,I know.But it sounded very plausible as a kid:P What if her patients last till evening? Well,this one could happen.Anyone else would shut shop after a given time,but maybe not my Mom. What if she was on her way and something happened? This one scared me a lot.Coz back then there were no mobiles and it'd be much later that I'd get to know. Ultimately,what if no one came to pick me up?This,at least,had an answer. I'd memorized the way home and I figured worst case I'd walk and get there:D

So,I'd sit there and wait.Often to kill time,I'd lose myself in some imaginary world.I've done this as long as I can remember and it always,always works.Serves for a wonderful distraction.Eventually,either one of the nuns who were heading to the convent or the watchman would stop by and ask me why I was still there.Some of them would even offer to call my parents for me.I'd be petrified to talk to them,but would somehow manage to tell them that I'm fine.

There have been days when my resolve has broken down and I've cried.And then,I'd wipe away the tears and wait.Eventually,my mom would come.She always did.Deep down,I knew that.

The sound of that horn was unmistakable.The happiness I'd feel is still vivid in my memories.I'd run out of the gate.I never reproached her for being late.I knew she had her reasons--for me they were good enough.I believe that is an important part of accepting people--that you accept what's important to them as well.She,however would take one look at my face and know that I'd been crying.Mothers always do,you know.You can pretend to be strong and never cry when they're there but they always know!

As a result of that guilt,the whole world was mine on Saturday afternoons.Anything I'd ask for,I'd get.I,of course,knew that very well and saved all my usually-disapproved-of-requests for Saturday.Talk about scheming children,eh? It was something I really looked forward to,despite the traumatic wait.

Shortly,she told my Dad about it.His workplace was about 10 minutes away from my school.His lunch break was from 12 to 1,if I'm not wrong.He used to be at school promptly at 12.15,with snacks for me.He'd stay and talk to me till 12.40 and then leave,assuring me that my mom would be there soon.It was years later when I figured out that he skipped lunch every week to do this!

Well,that's about it.I soon got used to it.And I had this brilliant idea of getting a novel every Saturday:P Also,I asked for a watch and got one.After that,the hours just flew by.Often,I'd be so absorbed in a book that I wouldn't notice the people who sneaked up on me to ask if I was fine.Pretty soon,they got used to me staying late as well.

Often,I'd see other kids crying.My heart always went out to them coz I knew how terrifying it was.I'd talk to them,sometimes call their parents for them,or give them chocolates.I sometimes wish I could still do that:)

For years,my mom thought I was scared to be alone on Saturdays and I let her live under that illusion knowing the benefits I'd get out of it :D

P.S:It's close to Christmas and that always reminds me of school.The crib,the annual play,the secret angel,the carols and all of that!Sigh.I miss those days.